


Large Black Coffee. Hot.

by ReformedTsundere



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: (for Cisco anyway), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Cisco is a Barista, Enemies to Friends to More, Everyone is aged down about 5ish years, Harry is still a grumpy scientist, I promise, It's probably very pradictable, M/M, Yall there are so many cliches in this, just a dash, little angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-01 11:02:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReformedTsundere/pseuds/ReformedTsundere
Summary: Cisco likes working at the coffee shop just off campus.Wait. Pause. Correction.Ciscotoleratesworking at the coffee shop just off campus.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cisco likes working at the coffee shop just off campus.
> 
> Wait. Pause. Correction.
> 
> Cisco tolerates working at the coffee shop just off campus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every pairing deserves their own obligatory coffee shop AU, here's my contribution to the Harrisco ship :)
> 
> Come find me at film-in-my-soul on tumblr or check out my Cisco Ramon RP blog at vibesnotdead, also on tumblr.
> 
> Enjoy.

Cisco likes working at the coffee shop just off campus.

Wait. Pause. Correction.

Cisco _tolerates_ working at the coffee shop just off campus.

He _likes_ when the espresso machine breaks and he gets to ignore customers in order to take the ancient (classic, as his manager, would call it) beast to the back room where they store the grounds and the employee “break room.” It’s the only time he can take a screwdriver, sometimes a hammer, to the insides and get it working again. Cisco _likes_ that it pays him well enough to eat where his scholarships can barely keep a roof over his head and his tuition paid for. He _likes_ that sometimes early risers are actually polite and put their change in the shop’s modest tip jar because that means he can splurge on a food truck for lunch instead of having to eat the half-stale sandwich crammed into his laptop bag.

Still, Cisco only _tolerates_ the job. He can’t say he really enjoys it enough to proclaim it “likable.” Coffee making is not his career path. He prefers tea to the stuff anyway but he’ll drink what he can because he gets two free cups a shift and it’s better than trying to keep his eyes open by force of will alone. Then, of course, for every good patron, every kind regular, and smiling kid just looking for a pastry, there are at least five assholes. They always have their phones to their ears, half mumbling their orders and looking down on him like he’s just a washout that should feel honored to be brewing their coffee. 

It’s not even a high-end cafe. Those douche-canoes can take their asses to Starbuck for all Cisco cares if they’re just gonna be elitist assholes about fucking caffeinated bean juice.

So no. Cisco doesn’t _like_ his job, but it’s not the worst place to be at seven pm at night after his robotics class finishes. Flash Brewed isn’t a twenty-four-hour joint, but they’re open pretty late for students and night owls alike. When he isn’t on shift Cisco has been both. Often at the same time. 

When he does work, Cisco prefers the closing shifts to opens or, god forbid, mid shifts.

Closing up the shop allows him just enough time to do homework between serving patrons and having to wipe down tables. An open has too much set up for the day before a colleague comes. The mid shift is too jam-packed to look away from one syrup bottle or another but its better, _marginally_. Cisco also usually gets to work with Barry or Caitlin when he closes. Morning means he has Kendra (a goddess really but Cisco gets tongue-tied around her ever since he made the mistake of asking her out) or Leonard (who’s probably a decent guy underneath his sneer and inability to have a human conversation that isn’t eighty percent villain dialogue in the making.) No, Barry and Caitlin are his preferred working companions.

They’re two science majors that may not be able to keep up with his engineering jargon or movie references but are smart enough that they aren’t left in the dust. It goes both ways, Cisco not really getting the chemistry behind some of Caitlin’s work or how Barry can make heads or tails out of blood splatter diagrams. For those very reasons though Cisco loves them. He’s finally not the smartest person in the room. It gets pretty fucking tiring after a while. So he’s thankful for his coworkers and when he gets to hang out with them on shift.

It doesn’t stop the assholes though.

Sometimes Cisco likes to come up with names for his more regular jackwagon customers. He makes Caitlin simultaneously laugh and scold him when he whispers the nicknames to her as he passes over order slips when he works the til. Barry always laughs, too good-natured to do anything else. There’s Carmel Toupee whose hair is just as fake as his “coffee” order. Frankinchino is also a tough customer, though he mostly just grunts and ignores Cisco until he’s putting down the paper cup with his real name on it. People like that have a way of getting under the barista’s skin. 

The least creative name Cisco has for his least favorite asshole customer is Bitch. It’s Hartley though so Cisco can’t be blamed.

The first time Tall Dark and Dickish or TDD, as Cisco will later abbreviate his name to, struts (fucking _struts_ ) into the shop with his phone practically glued to his hand, Cisco knows he’s going to be _one of those_ customers. He can already feel an impending headache start to press against the back of his eyes as he tosses his cleaning rag into the small sink behind the counter.

It isn’t always bad, they aren’t all rude and most even slip their phones away when they finally make it to the register. Still, there are things called manners, and if Cisco’s mother did her job correctly, he’s pretty sure they’ve been beaten into his head at this point in his life. It’s not until the tall drink of douchebag looks up from his screen to stare, dead-eyed at Cisco, does the student realize who the fuck just walked into the coffee shop.

It’s Harrison Wells. _The_ Harrison Wells. Renowned physicist, headliner for the Central City Science mag, creator of Cisco's third favorite programming engine. _That_ Harrison Wells. Cisco can feel his tongue get heavy in his mouth and he’s not sure whether it’s because of the guy’s presence or the striking blue eyes that take only a second to sweep over Cisco before going back to his phone.

“Large black coffee, hot.”

That all he says. He doesn’t even look Cisco in the eye when he places a five on the table and keeps going. It’s a blatant dismissal that makes the barista feel small and meaningless. Cisco is immediately less stunned than before. His brain jumps right past his adoration and settles into the little space where he pushes asshole customers to. It doesn’t matter if the guy looks hot as fuck in a black tank top with a welding torch in hand (thank you GQ), he was officially getting a nickname. Cisco takes the five and rings up the change, regardless of the fact that Wells hadn’t actually made it clear whether or not he expected it back. He isn’t taking chances. He puts the remaining three bucks off to the side, and because it's nearly 8 pm and Barry's on a lunch break across the street, Cisco gets to making the man's order.

It takes less than a minute and Cisco debates calling out something annoying to Wells, who is still on his phone from what Cisco can see. He deems it a bad idea though and settles for placing the paper cup down and cocking his hip. The barista sets the change next to it and feels the blood under his skin pulse hard and start to boil as he's still steadily being ignored. Now, let it be known that Cisco Ramon is not a man prone to violence, no matter the offence. He is, however, very prone to sarcasm. Some might even call it his superpower.

“One coffee as black as your fashion sense,” he says it loudly, a large, fake grin practically dripping while he slides the change next to the cup. Ice blue eyes snap up to him as soon as the remark is out of Cisco’s mouth. Harrison’s thumbs freeze over his phone screen, halting whatever text or email he was shooting off. The look of surprise is almost enough to twist Cisco’s smile into a smirk but he manages to keep his grin wide and just on the side of facetious. Cisco can’t tell if the surprise is due to his words or the fact that he’d spoken at all and not simply handed over the drink like a typical barista might in the face of such a rude and standoffish order.

Harrison Wells says nothing, just hardens his glare, hurumphs in some grouchy semblance of an affirmation, takes his coffee and change in the same hand, somehow, and leaves. Cisco is convinced he’s won. It wasn’t really a battle or anything, but he still feels a thrill of victory in his chest as he watches the retreating back of the man through the glass door of the coffee house.

“You’re kidding,” Barry gaps at him when he finally comes back and Cisco tells him about the Harrison Wells encounter. He assures his giraffe of a friend that he is, in fact, not. He stresses the level of douchery that Wells had shown and goes as far to recreate the way he’d placed his order. It makes Barry laugh like Cisco knew it would.

“I guess it makes sense though,” Cisco relents, “we must look like ants to a guy like that.” Barry nods at Cisco’s words. They’ve bonded over the unhealthy obsession with Wells’ scientific breakthroughs. “Doesn’t make him any less of a dick,” Cisco concludes as he wipes down a table three students just vacated. Cisco hopes they’re going home to sleep like he wants to. He thinks he served one of them a quadruple shot and cringes. He’s had nights like that before and does not envy them one bit.

A benefit of being twenty-three and almost finished with his masters is that he doesn’t have as many classes, just larger projects and a thesis to turn in. That alone still means too many all-nighters and caffeine-induced hazes for his liking. Cisco figures he might as well get used to it now though, his futures gonna be a lot of the same. He can just tell.

When he works the next afternoon with Caitlin, Cisco recounts the story he’d spun for Barry the night before with just a bit more theatrics and flare though. She might be easy going but she doesn’t laugh as freely as Barry does.

“Have you given him a nickname like the others?” She asks, creating an intricate rose on the top of Mrs. Levi's drink. Cisco can never make them look as good as she does and at this point, he doesn’t even bother trying.

“Tall, Dark, and Dickish, TDD for short,” Cisco says and ignores the way that a patron close to the counter chokes on their breath. Caitlin huffs out a soft chuckle, it’s more reserved than Barry’s had been. Caitlin doesn’t respond verbally after that, just shakes her head in clear amusement before leaving the safety of the coffee counter behind to place little Mrs. Levi’s drink down at her table. Cisco cleans up the spills that have happened over the course of his shift so far and settles down with his chunk of theoretical physics homework before the lunch rush has a chance to hit.

It’s three days later, around the same time of night even, that Harrison Wells walks (struts, again, Cisco is convinced he’s strutting) up to the counter. Cisco is as unprepared as he was the last time but he tamps down the urge to bare his neck to said scientific god and instead chooses to be the smartass he is. He doesn’t shoot Dr. Wells the same fake grin as last time but raises an eyebrow instead. The man’s not on his phone this time and Cisco is hit by those crystal eyes again. He feels like they can see past his skin and into his brain. Like they’re pulling him apart and judging him at the same time. It makes his legs tense uncomfortably but he refuses to turn away.

Harrison Wells blinks and the spell is momentarily broken. Enough at least, that Cisco can wet his suddenly dry lips and speak.

“You gonna order anything or just keep trying to stare a hole through my head?” He asks it with a smile because as much of a dick this guy has proven himself to be in such a short amount of time, Cisco prides himself on, for the most part, treating others with mild respect. His question makes Wells glare. Cisco isn’t familiar enough with the man's face in person to see the difference between embarrassment or annoyance but hopes to himself that whatever makes his expression tighten at the corners is the first.

“Large coffee, black, hot.” It’s the same four exact words that he’d said before and Cisco feels each one of them grate on his nerves, just a bit. While Harrison digs into his back pocket for his wallet, Cisco takes his time to contemplate his next action. He holds back his smirk, conscious of how it could read if Wells was to look up.

“Name for the order?” It’s not like Cisco has a line (the late nighters are already seated), it’s not like there are more coffee orders he has to fill, most importantly it’s not like he doesn’t already know who Harrison fucking Wells is. Still though, the look on Wells’ face, when he gets his wallet and registers exactly what Cisco’s said? It’s priceless. There’s a mix of indignation and sputtering disbelief as Cisco stares back, a sharpie raised to the blank side of the paper cup. He watches as a muscle in Wells’ cheek ticks but he still pulls a five from the leather fold of his wallet. Wells practically slams it down on the table and slides it to Cisco.

“Harrison,” he says between clenched teeth and Cisco is honestly surprised he didn’t say “Dr. Wells,” instead. The barista smiles and makes a show of writing on the cup before placing it down and making change for the five. Harrison goes off to the side, stewing in his silence once Cisco hands the bills over. Just like before it only takes Cisco a minute to get the coffee ready. He moves over to the end of the counter where pickups wait and pretends he can’t see Harrison typing something out on his phone not even two feet away.

“Order for Harry!” He calls out, loud enough to startle two of the obviously cramming college students in the back of the cafe. It apparently startles Wells too because he fumbles his phone for half a second before setting a hard glare at Cisco. Cisco, in return, meets him with a grin and slides the cup toward the other man.

Cisco half expects Harrison to say something. Anything really. But he doesn’t. He snatches his coffee up and glares harder for a moment longer, then stomps his way, much like the last time, out of the cafe and into the night.

Cisco is almost giddy.

The next day he works with Barry, Cisco rehashes the story and includes hand gestures while he gets started on restocking flavor syrups and cinnamon dust on the back shelves. It has his friend doubling over with laughter and then he charms one customer after another into leaving tips and spewing thanks. Cisco wishes he had the forethought for using such antics but really, sarcasm and wit have gotten him this far in life. It’s bound to get him farther still. He’ll leave Barry to use his puppy dog grin to pay for Cisco’s nicer lunch.

Of course, that’s when ten minutes later the lunch rush kicks into full swing and Harrison Wells decides to slink into the coffee house. Cisco can tell that Barry’s spotted him (along with half their current patronage if the sudden drop in noise is factored in) because he drops the change in his hands and goes bashfully red in two seconds flat. Cisco fights the urge to roll his eyes but he’s also still a little shocked Harry’s even come back, in the daylight no less, so it’s not hard to do. Cisco knows their coffee is good, regardless of his own personal tastes, still… it’s a curious thing to see the older man keep returning...

While normally Cisco would be up at the front, taking orders because he’s quick at it lunchtime is different. They need Cisco’s quick hands and ability to multitask for the coffee orders which pile up high as business men and struggling students crawl in for more energy. Also, their manager made the executive decision for them after the third time Barry knocked over six half filled cups in one go. The clean up had not been pretty.

Cisco wonders to himself briefly how Barry’s gonna hold up against Wells, though he knows right away Barry won’t do anything “potentially compromising to the integrity of his job” like Cisco does. It’s not _his_ fault that dry humor and sarcasm isn’t a valued asset to his work.

Three more people filter through the never ending line before it gets to Harry and Cisco wants, oh how he wants, to turn around and cock his hip and make the older mans face go tight with barely held off frustration like the last two times. He can’t though. Wither it’s the daylight or the afternoon rush or back pile of coffee orders he has to fill it doesn’t matter in the long run. Barry stutters over a welcome and some kind of half garbled expression of adoration that keeps going, and going, and _going_ as his friend trips over his own words. It’s cringe worthy in all honesty.

Cisco peeks over his shoulder at the counter, at Harry, who for his part, is looking only mildly tense but only growing more agitated. His half smile is tight around the edges and Cisco knows, from years of high school experience, what a man about to lash out looks like. As well meaning and earnest as Barry is he can’t read social cues for anything. Cisco’s got probably twenty seconds before Harrison Wells does or says something to crush Barry into dust. Something about the hard line of his shoulders and the way his wallet is creasing heavily in his hands makes Cisco wonder if it would be more physical than verbal...

Even though he has two orders still to go in his line, a total of five different drinks, Harry’s order, regardless of the fact he hasn’t had a chance _to_ order, is simple and Cisco feels himself rushing through it. Without a moment to spare. Cisco sees Harrison’s mouth start to open, practically feels the heat about to be lashed... The barista slams the large cup down in front of Harry with his signature smile, hoping beyond hope it might stop whatever he’s about to say. There’s a small relax in the harsh cut of Harry’s brow and Cisco feels his chest release what tension had been building as the scientist looks him over with those critical eyes. Beside Cisco, Barry sputters uselessly.

“Large coffee, hot and black right?” Cisco can tell he’s caught Harrison off guard again, but not as much as the night before because he immediately straightens up and hands a five over to Barry but doesn’t actually look at him.

“Yeah,” is “The Great Harrison Wells’” response and Cisco can’t help the roll of his eyes while his friend makes change. He’s glad he intercepted when he did but Cisco’s more glad that the woman in line behind Harry is so engrossed in her phone she doesn’t seem to realize that the line has stopped moving. That and the fact that he doesn’t technically have to deal with her is the only reason Cisco doesn’t start to formulate a nickname. Barry holds out three dollars and manages to finally recognize the situation his bumbling has put him in and says nothing. He looks too much like a kicked puppy for Cisco’s taste and the way that Harrison deflates, just a bit, means he likely isn’t immune to Barry’s shamed expression either. It would be vindicating if it wasn’t so sad.

Cisco, for the first time in a long time, doesn’t know what he’s meant to say in such a situation, so he just pushes the coffee toward the other man and goes back to making his drinks. Judging by the moment of silence behind him and the sudden reappearance of Barry’s voice, Harry’s left. The encounter alone, mixed with Barry, makes it the fourth weirdest day working at the cafe for Cisco since he’d started a year and a half prior. Twenty minutes later, as per usual, the crowd dies down and the tables are filled with kids on momentary reprieve from class. Barry finally turns to him and helps with wiping down the whipped cream that's managed to get everywhere like it usually does when Cisco can’t be bothered with the pretense of neatness.

“So,” Barry starts, “that was Harrison Wells.” The sentence hangs between them and Cisco can read the tone his friend utters with ease.

“Dude, I warned you, he’s TDD for a reason,” Cisco shrugs his shoulders and keeps up his work on cleaning before the second pulse of customers come. “That being said…”

Barry can read Cisco just as well as Cisco can read his and groans at his hanging words.

“I know man, I just, he’s _Harrison Wells_ , I’ve looked up to him since I was eleven.”

Cisco gets it. He too had felt the same incessant need to thank the other man too, but then Harry had opened his mouth and looked past him like he was nothing, and Cisco’s always been good at compartmentalizing. Barry’s more heart than brain sometimes so it makes sense that he’d word vomited where Cisco had been able to hold himself back long enough for Wells to get under Cisco’s skin in the wrong kind of way.

“I know Barry, still, you kinda went into full you mode,” it wasn’t meant as an insult and Barry’s expected eye roll was enough for Cisco to know it hadn’t been taken as such. They both know that sometimes Barry’s passion can get him into more trouble than anything else. Together they clean up the rest of the counter just in time. Almost on the hour, a fresh group of zombified college students trickle in looking for a fix. Cisco feels sympathy for them as he pulls espresso shot after espresso shot and the scene with Harrison Wells is pushed to the back of his mind for a later day.

A “later day” turns about to be roughly three, give or take a few hours. Cisco’s working the Tuesday night shift by himself because Caitlin needed to trade with him for Wednesday off and he’s way too nice for his own good. He’s not as nicely put together as he usually is, having to come right from school to the cafe isn’t ideal in most circumstances but today it had been even worse so than usual. Apparently, regardless of the near completion of his masters degree, teachers still feel the need to do the unexpected. This day, in particular, the “unexpected” is mandatory finals review papers. From every. Single. Fucking. Class.

Now, mind, Cisco knows he’s only taking three and in their own right it’s not much of a challenge. Combined however? Cisco is already behind with his Roomba experiment due at the end of the week and he really, _really_ doesn’t have the time to sit down and work out thirty or more engineering and mathematics problems in the meantime. He already sees himself between meals, _during_ meals, halfway asleep as midnight passes, filling out answer after answer until his fingers bleed and he’s got a pencil dip in his hand permanently.

Still, he knows it needs to be done, and as haggard as he is with each flip of his review packet, he’s thankful for the night shift being as slow and empty as it is. Of course, he’s thinking his thanks the moment that Harry walks in, as pleasant as usual. This means, of course, that Harry is scowling as he trudges up to the counter. To Cisco, he looks more worn down than the afternoon three days prior and it’s enough to hold most of his sarcastic greetings a bay.

“Same as usual or you wanna spice things up and broaden your horizons?” He smiles as he says it, though knows he won’t get one in return. Of course, Cisco’s correct in his assumption when all Harry does is drop a slightly crumpled five on the counter. Typically Cisco would take offense to the mannerless gesture, but he's feeling sympathy in the form of tired eyes and too little sleep.

Cisco turns from the register and his packets to get the cup going, expecting Harry to head to the end for pickup. While he’s filling up the coffee cup, slipping a shot of espresso in, free of charge, Cisco hears a soft rustling behind him but doesn’t pay it much mind. At least not until Harry is speaking.

“How’d you get your conclusion on number three?” Cisco almost tips all the coffee out of the cup in his race to turn around. Harrison Wells is looking over his engineering test prep. More than that he’s actually looking _over_ and _analyzing_ his answers. Cisco knows exactly what problem the older man is looking at too because it’s the second to last one he’s actually finished working through. He knows he has to go back and better justify his reasoning in the second pass. Cisco is still staring, dumbly he knows, at Harry, who finally looks up from the papers in his hands to arch a grumpy eyebrow at him. It spurs Cisco into speaking.

“Copper filaments to bypass the electrical issue then -”

“Build the circuit at the back, right…” Harry finishes for him, blue eyes flicking back to the problem, head nodding carefully.

They lapse into silence again and Cisco, as honestly weirded out as he is, clicks the lid on to Harry’s cup and pushes both it and the five dollar bill back to him across the coffee counter. Harry, noting that the coffee has been finished, places the packet down where it once was and then goes to looking between the money and Cisco. Cisco shrugs a little helplessly.

“I get a couple freebies per shift and you look like you could use it more than me right now,” is all he offers, nudging the money and the cup closer once again, urging the older man to take it and leave so that Cisco can stop feeling like there’s pressure building on his throat. Thankfully Harrison Wells is as smart as every book about him says and takes the five back as well as his coffee without word. The look on his face is saying _something_ and Cisco’s too tied up in knots with the strange feeling in his nerves to try and pick it apart. Harry nods once in silent thanks than leaves, only casting a quick, maybe confused glance behind as he steps through the door into the night.

Whatever tension had been building, for whatever reason it had built, dissipates almost immediately after Harry leaves and Cisco feels his lungs relax as he finally breathes. Maybe it had been the unnerving quiet of the cafe and the lack of other people aside from them. Or maybe it had been that look on Harry’s face, so unlike the pinched expression, Cisco was getting used to seeing. Whatever it was, Cisco was glad to be rid of it, at least until he could figure it out.


	2. Chapter 2

After that night, Harry comes back again two days later, in the afternoon. Barry’s typically off on Friday’s so it’s just him and Caitlin working the counter while their manager/owner, making a surprise of showing up and helping for a bit, is back in the office balancing books and doing the months inventory.

Jay Garrick is a pretty cool dude even if he’s a bit of a cryptid around the cafe. It’s Cisco who’s at the register this time since Caitlin doesn’t knock stuff down as much as Barry does and she got to the cafe first meaning she got dibs. Cisco never fights on her on dibs.

The feeling from that weird night is gone but there’s still a pull in Cisco’s navel that makes his shoulders a bit tense.

Harry is flipping through something on his phone and there’s that nagging annoyance Cisco’s familiar with. He clings to that sensation with both hands and pushes down pretty much anything else. Then, of course, because Cisco’s learning pretty quickly that Harry doesn’t do things exactly as Cisco might be expecting him to, he puts his phone into his back pocket when the lady in front of him finishes her order and moves off. The annoyance slips through Cisco’s metaphorical hands like smoke and he’s left in nearly the same confused, uncomfortable state as before. Cisco swallows down the discomfort and slips on his best customer smile that he knows Harry can see right through.

“The usual?” He prompts, hand already reaching for the cup before Harry even has a chance to nod his head yes. Harry holds out the five for him instead of just dropping it onto the counter and Cisco takes it after writing out a clear “Harry” onto the cup.

“Thank you Ramon,” Harry says when Cisco passes him his three dollars in change. Cisco’s left sputtering in front of the next customer as Harry steps to the end of the counter.

Once the lunch rush dies down Caitlin and Cisco take a small reprieve in the employee area. Jay mans the front for them while they take a fifteen-minute break.

In the back of Cisco’s head, he’s still spinning, wracking his brain as he looks down at his name tag. It only says “Cisco,” no last name in sight. He’s biting into his PB&J when it hits him.

“The test packet!”

Caitlin makes a disgusted face as bits of half-chewed bread hit the small table between them. Cisco grimaces his apology and wipes up his mess while swallowing the rest of his mouthful.

“What are you talking about Cisco?” she askes, brow raising before taking a sip her iced coffee. Caitlin writes something down in red on a homework sheet Cisco is pretty sure belongs to another student. Must be for her TA thing, he thinks.

“Harrison Wells called me Ramon and I’ve been trying to figure out where the hell he got my last name.” Caitlin makes a little thoughtful noise in the back of her throat.

“And he got it from a test packet?” Her tone is a little lost but Cisco can see that she’s trying to follow his train of logic even though Cisco himself knows that she can hardly see the tracks he runs in his own mind for it to work. He wraps up the last half of his lunch and puts it in his bag for later when he’s slaving away over his latest project.

“So Harry came in a couple nights ago right?” Caitlin nods, though her expression tells Cisco she’s a bit surprised at him calling Harrison Wells Harry. She’d stuttered over the name on the coffee cup as well. “Anyways, I’m making his coffee and he just kinda grabs my practice test packet thing, so that’s gotta be where he got my last name from. I just couldn’t figure it out.” Cisco smiles to himself, proud that he’s come to the conclusion. Caitlin seems to be on the same page as well and gives him her signature _“I’m happy that you’re happy,”_ expression. It’s a careful, small upturn at the corner of her mouth and a softening of her brows, Cisco’s used to seeing it by now.

Jay comes back to get them a couple minutes later, saying without much grandeur or explanation that he’s heading out and they need to get their asses back to the counter until Barry gets in to close. When they slip their aprons back on and move past him, Jay gives them both fatherly pats on the backs like he always does when he comes in. Cisco thinks that he stays at the coffeehouse mostly because Jay is the most laid back guy to work for. That and those precious moments when the espresso machine tries to commit suicide and Cisco can resurrect it from the grave like the technological necromancer he is.

For the rest of his shift, Cisco pushes the sound of his last name rolling off Harrison Wells’ tongue to the back of his mind.

Of course, fate is ever the cruel mistress and Cisco doesn’t get the chance to forget it long. Harry comes back. Then again. And again, and _again_ , every three days like clockwork. Night, then afternoon, then night again and each time, because Cisco, for the most part, unless he changes shifts because he’s just that nice, has a pretty consistent schedule. Something’s changed between them, since that first time Harry addressed him out loud, because the older man is actually, dare Cisco say it? almost… pleasant. He’s not nice, not by a mile, but he actually puts his phone away when he orders, even though "order" when Cisco’s at the counter is just holding out the five and raising an eyebrow. They both know Cisco’s not gonna be able to convince Harry to try something new.

Sometimes they’ll actually talk, which is strange but also kinda cool. At least Cisco thinks so. He’s pretty sure that Harry is just killing time for the couple of minutes it takes Cisco to make his cup of coffee. But that’s not always the case anymore, because Harry lingers sometimes, at the end of the counter, cradling his paper cup in his hands, hands that Cisco sometimes finds himself looking intently at, mapping out new cuts and old calluses that are red around the edges. Cisco knows what hands like that are capable of because his are nearly the same, just smaller and more tan.

It’s two weeks later when mounting curiosity and subtle familiarity make Cisco’s lips loose and he finally asks something that’s been on his mind since Harry first sauntered into the cafe. The barista is passing over the other man’s cup when it slips out.

“So why’d you start coming in anyway?” Harry stalls halfway to taking his drink before he unfreezes and grabs it with his well-worn fingers. For a moment, Cisco thinks he’s ruined everything, that Harry’s eyes are going to harden in the glare he’d worn those first few visits. He’s sure the older man is going to take his coffee, spin on his heel and leave. Then Harry breathes out through his nose and leans against the wall next to the pick-up counter, cradling his drink before turning his sharp eyes to Cisco.

“I’ve been helping Mercury Labs with some of their work recently, we are… working on a collaboration of sorts.” For whatever reason, it’s not at all what Cisco is expecting him to say but in a way, it does make sense. There’s an underlying tone to Harry’s words that makes Cisco believe it’s not as simple as he’s making it out to be, and really, when it comes to the two most innovative tech giants in Central City he wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t. That does explain why he comes in at pretty much the same times and why Harry’s coming to their cafe. It’s only a block and a half away from Mercury labs. Cisco knows though, because he took a tour of the facility once with his class, that they have a pretty decent cafeteria. Maybe Harry just doesn’t like the coffee there?

“Sounds fun,” Cisco offers after a moment of mulling the words over in his head, Harry scoffs and takes a derisive sip of his drink.

“It’s a pain in my ass.” Cisco barks out a surprised laugh and shakes his head. From the corner of his eye he sees the side of Harry’s mouth tip up into a soft smirk, it’s almost a smile but not quite. It makes Cisco’s chest feel tight in a way he’s far too familiar with.

Well, Caitlin has always said he has horrible taste in people.

That night Cisco reflects over his sudden understanding that, somehow, Harrison Wells has clawed himself out of the portion of Cisco’s brain where “Asshats and Jackwagons” belong and has situated himself into the same niche where Kendra, Lisa, and yes, for whatever godforsaken reason it happened, Hartley, used to occupy. Cisco takes a swig of his beer, Star Trek playing on his laptop while he formulates a new pattern for electricity to travel on his latest project and contemplates the newest development in his young life.

He’s got a crush on Harry.

The realization that Cisco’s more attracted to Harry then he is annoyed by him doesn’t really change much when the other man does come into the shop. Cisco almost throws Harry’s coffee at him when he looms over Cisco’s latest project numbers and tells him he’s wrong. Harry complains more openly about having to work with idiots over at Mercury Labs, the paparazzi following him around for comments and shit he doesn’t even deem worthy of his attention and life moves forward.

Well, some things do change, of course.

Harry actually stays for more than five minutes most of the time when he comes to get his caffeine fix. It’s only on the nightly trips that he does it, and only if the cafe is mostly empty. He always takes the same corner table, wedged in the back by the cooling units with both a perfect view of the door and the counter. It speaks to an anxiety and preparedness that makes Cisco a little on edge every time he watches Harry squeeze himself into the space with his laptop and coffee cup.

Another thing is that Cisco starts to look at Harry more critically than before, or at least, he realizes just how critically he was looking before. He doesn’t always get the chance to, but when he does (mostly when Harry’s at his corner seat) Cisco takes extra care in peeking over the edges of his textbooks, safe behind the coffee counter.

Most of the time Harry doesn’t notice the staring, that or he’s pretending he doesn’t. Cisco’s never been all that modest when it comes to himself and he knows he’s about as subtle as a brick to the head when it comes to his attraction towards others. Still, he’s hoping that it’s the former rather than the latter. Harry does catch him sometimes. It's typically when Cisco gets lost in the way the moody lights of the cafe makes Harry’s hair look dark and inviting enough that the barista can imagine himself running his fingers through the soft looking curls. Cisco “plays it off” by squinting and mumbling something like “lint” before turning back to his books and trying to absorb through just looking instead of actually reading or taking notes.

Aside from little moments like that their dynamic doesn’t shift around too much. Harry is friendlier than he once was, as grumpy as he still is, and Cisco resolves himself to pine until someone else comes along for his interest to be taken with, regardless of how unlikely that is. Cisco's heart is often a thing with claws that like to sink into one person until they leave or shoot him down. Even then, sometimes it doesn’t let go that easily. All Cisco can do at this point is wait and see. He’s used to it.

Occasionally, even though Cisco is pretty sure his brain is conspiring against him and making him see things, he thinks Harry is watching him back from his perch in the corner of the cafe, or when he’s leaned against the wall, waiting for Cisco to finish putting his usual order together. Cisco can feel those crystal sharp eyes on his back like daggers but he can never bring himself to turn around until he’s already got the coffee in hand and his typical sarcastic remark about Harry’s order prepped on his lips.

Cisco knows that Barry and Caitlin know exactly what’s going on, mostly because they aren’t stupid and are well accustomed with his “crush song as dance” as Caitlin puts it. She'd coined it when he’d been pinning after Kendra, before he’d bit the bullet and asked her out for dinner, only to be informed of her very committed seven-year relationship. It had been an understandable, gentle let down. Cisco can still feel the sting of it if he thinks hard enough. He tries not to. Barry’s approach to the whole thing is rib and make fun like a BFF is supposed to do, regardless of who exactly he’s developed a crush for. Caitlin, on the other hand, is always tactful and blunt when she brings it up. She asks him if he has any plans on making moves or if he’s thought of exactly why he’s so interested in Harry given the fact he’d garnered a nickname after the very first visit and really isn’t all too pleasant with most people when he comes in. Cisco tends to shrug her off. He knows he doesn’t have the best taste when it comes to people, be it because they’re already seeing people or might actually be evil, but Harry feels… different, and Cisco doesn’t want to mess with that by thinking too hard on his past _things_.

Through Cisco’s not so subtle observation it’s easy for him to figure out that Harry working at Mercury Labs and still running S.T.A.R. Labs as well? It’s killing him very slowly and not even the espresso shot Cisco sneaks into the older man’s drink seems to be helping. The bags under his eyes only seem to be getting heavier as the weeks sluggishly move ahead and Harry gets progressively more exhausted.

On Tuesday night, Cisco finally draws the line of indifference. Harry had come into the cafe at his normal time, the swagger in his walk from the very first few visits gone, replaced by a bone-deep weariness that Cisco can feel in his gut as he watches the man shuffle to the counter and hand Cisco a bill. Usually, he’d still place his four-word order, just to get Cisco to smile (at least that’s what Cisco hopes he does it for) but this time the five is followed by nothing but silence. Harry goes to wait by the pickup area, chin to his chest as he starts pulling files from his bag. Cisco sighs, he doesn’t even have the energy, looking at Harry the way he is, to get mad like he usually would at such rudeness.

“Just go sit down Harry, I’ll bring it to you.” There’s no one else in since it’s nearing nine pm and classes have let out for the fall break. Even his usual stragglers have seemed to retreat to their student apartments to hibernate until school starts back up come Monday. Harry looks up at him, once, and the expression carried through past the perpetual frown smudges of black under his eyes is that of thanks. Cisco spins around the make his drink, slipping in the shot of espresso he’s gotten used to adding while Harry drops himself into his chair and starts pulling folders out of his shoulder bag.

Right as Harry is flipping one open Cisco saddles up to the table and places the coffee off to the side of everything, as out of the way as he can make it, which isn’t really much given the small size of the table and the number of blueprints and graphs. Harry’s fingers wrap around the cup before Cisco can even let go and for a moment, a large, warm, calloused hand brushes over his. He’s going to be haunted by the sensation for weeks, he can already tell.

Cisco hurries back over to his counter, determined to do something that _isn’t_ watch Harry give part of his soul to whatever project is keeping him up at night and curving his spine into such an uncomfortable looking angle. It works for about fifteen minutes. He’s got some kinks to work out in his code for his dissertation and it’s something he likes to put down and pick up every couple days. He lets the careful scrawl of his own equations wash over him when he hears something over the soft hum of the coffee machines and gentle jazz he’s got going over the radio behind the counter.

It’s snoring. A light snoring. It’s... _Harry_ snoring.

Cisco lets his eyes snap to where Harry is now slumped over his table, coffee cup rolled on to its side and thankfully empty. Cisco doesn’t even want to imagine what Harry might do to the cafe if his blueprints had been stained, regardless of who’s fault it was. Hesitantly, Cisco rounds the safety barrier of the counter and slips to Harry’s side. He picks up the fallen cup and goes to recycle it, being quite as he goes, deciding what he’s going to do. Cisco knows he shouldn’t let Harry sleep like this, even Cisco’s back can’t take the strain of sleeping mostly upright. Carefully, he brings his hands down on to Harry’s shoulder.

It’s instantaneous, the way that Harry jerks up. Cisco winces in sympathy at the sound of popping vertebrae.

It’s clear by the way the fog in his gaze and the way his head swivels that Harry, for a brief moment, has no idea where he is. Then careful he turns to the hand on his shoulder and follows it up to lock eyes with Cisco. The haze lifts from Harry’s expression, though the bags under look just as deep, if not deeper. Harry doesn’t immediately shrug Cisco’s touch away and the barista tries not to dwell too long on the way it makes his chest tighten with warmth. Then Harry nods, either to himself or to Cisco and goes silently back to looking over his blueprints, fingers already reaching for a pencil.

That’s what snaps the final thread of Cisco’s ability to turn a blind eye.

Harry is _exhausted_ and Cisco is done letting the older man make himself even more so.

Without much thought Cisco slams his hand down, palm open on top of the papers, obscuring the schematics and equations. Harry, at once, is more alert and the drowsiness behind his crystal stare is replaced by sudden, fiery anger, boarding indignation. Harry goes to open his mouth and Cisco silences him with a hissed breath between his teeth.

“Nuh-uh,” Cisco would waggle a finger if both his hands weren’t occupied. “You can not expect me to let you go back to working on this when you are literally falling asleep after chugging straight caffeine.” Harry’s eyes harden in a glare, something close but more personal than the look he’d been hit with that first night Cisco had “fought back” in his witty way.

“No offense, _Ramon_ ,” he bites the word out, mouth pulling down into a scowl, practically ripping the papers out from under Cisco’s hand, jerking him off balance for a moment. “But if I wanted your opinion, I would have asked, and since I clearly _didn’t-”_

Cisco puts it in his mind for later rumination that when Harry is tired, he is grumpy (grumpier really) borderline vicious. It triggers Cisco’s fight or flight response like everything Harry does, from showing the barista his rare but real smile to chuckling under his breath when Cisco seems to say just the right thing. Like usual, Cisco chooses to stand his ground.

“Right now Harry, this is my cafe, so my rules.” Cisco casts his gaze around the empty coffee house for emphasis. “So, way I see it, you’ve got three options. One, go home, sleep, work on this later. Two, stay, work on this, but get no refills from me,” Harry actually looks a bit shocked that Cisco would withhold caffeine from him, as drastic as it sounds. “Or,” Cisco’s voice goes a bit softer, hoping that Harry will consider it a better offer than any of the others. “Budge over and let me take a look, and I’ll get you another cup.”

Cisco knows it’s bold of him to assume that Harry would need help (regardless of the obvious fact he does) or that he might even consider Cisco able to provide any insight at all, but he wants to assist and he doesn’t have any other talents that he could offer a man of Harrison Wells’ knowledge. Cisco stands there, gaze locked with Harry’s as the jazz from the radio drones quietly in the background. The longer they stand there, unmoving, unblinking, the longer Cisco begins to think he’s overstepped a line in the sand between them. Then, by some strange power, Harry heaves the deepest sigh Cisco’s heard from him yet and shuffles over to make room for one more chair.

Cisco holds the beam off of his face, knowing it might seem off-putting or make Harry change his mind. Quickly he goes to the counter and then around it to get a new cup of coffee, as promised. He snaps the lid on and returns to Harry within a couple minutes, dragging a chair behind him. The cafe closes soon but Cisco will stay behind longer if he needs to in order to get the cleaning done. He’s not going to pass up an opportunity like this.

Harry takes the cup from him and this time there is no overlapping of fingers. Cisco bites back his disappointment and instead focuses on the way he can almost feel Harry beside him, close enough to touch if Cisco were to inch a fraction closer than he needed to. He does though, hyper-aware that Harry could get up at any time and leave now that he’s got another caffeine fix, for whatever good that’ll do him, at least considering how well the last cup had helped.

There’s a beat of silence between Harry taking the first sip of coffee and Cisco awkwardly staring down at schematics he can half work his brain around.

“It’s for a faster, less taxing energy generator,” Harry says, using his free hand to draw a line down from one component to the next and Cisco sees.

“Right, right, makes sense with the rotator and belt wires…” Cisco trails off, having been given loose permission to look. He takes the edge of the blueprint and looks at the one beneath it, then off to the side where the corresponding numbers and equations sit. From there it’s surprising how well they slip into sync together. Harry doesn’t let him hold a pencil or anything, but he listens when Cisco remarks that there are places he could be optimizing the design. Harry has a brain for physics like nothing Cisco’s ever seen, but they both know the younger man understands engineering like he was born with it in his blood.

An hour later Cisco thinks he understands what Harry’s been struggling with, and honestly, he can’t really wrap his mind around it either. Though he isn’t surprised considering someone as smart as the man next to him hadn’t been able to in the first place.

“Maybe once you draw up new schematics it’ll look different and something might snap into place?” It not a weak offer necessarily but they both know science just doesn’t work like that. At least not the hard stuff, no matter how much everyone wished it did. Harry rubs at the bridge of his nose, and Cisco wonders when he’d taken off his glasses in the first place. Then those clear sky eyes are trained on him and Harry’s got a small smile on his lips that make the crows feet at the corner of his gaze crinkle and Cisco forgets how to breathe. Harry watches him for a moment before breaking the sudden tension Cisco had created between them with a clearing of his throat, his glasses going back on and his hands going to gather up his papers.

“I’ve kept you here past close, I’m sorry for that.” He sounds sincere in a way that Cisco’s never had the chance to hear him sound, but also more tired and it makes his chest swirl tight that he hadn’t been able to help much in the end.

“It’s not a problem, really,” Cisco stands to take care of Harry’s empty cup. “Maybe you should give yourself a day or two away from it, then look again, and I mean, I’ll always be here to help, so…” he tosses the empty cups and trails off, not sure where he wants to go with his offer. He knows he doesn’t have a right to offer advice to a man who’s got at least twice as many years doing real scientific work under his belt, but Cisco is well acquainted with stress and a seemingly endless problem, college has made sure of it.

It’s relatable, and the late night makes his lips more loose, makes him forget just who Harry is.

Cisco guesses it makes Harry forget too, because when Cisco looks back at him, his table is clear but he’s still wearing that gentle half smile, looking soft and amused as he stares at Cisco.

“I’ll take you up on that, I’m sure,” and it’s said in that weird unusual softness that leaves Cisco with no way to respond. He’s got no quip or witty remark because inside this bubble of nighttime softness and easy comradery over math and engineering there’s no heat or argument where it usually resides between them. He feels the bashfulness crawl on to his face, the kind only really attractive and interesting people can put there. Cisco refuses to sputter stupidly though and just shrugs in his way and slips behind the coffee counter to grab his cleaning rag. He can hear Harry shuffling his feet in the main room though and casts a smile over his shoulder.

“I’d tell you to lock up on your way out but I’m the one with the keys.” Harry scoffs.

“Yes Ramon, if you’ve made anything clear tonight, it’s _your_ cafe correct?” There’s a hint of teeth in Harry’s smirk and it makes Cisco’s gut clench but he nods and ignores the chill that runs down on his spine.

Harry’s two steps out the door when Cisco calls out to him.

“Get some sleep Harry,” Harry’s eyes trail to him and he nods.

“See you Friday, Ramon.”

Then Harry is gone, back retreating down the street, shadows thrown by street lamps. Cisco stands there, watching until Harry is completely out of sight and then turns back to the cafe. The barista sighs and goes from around the counter to the door, flipping the lock though no one but he and Harry have been inside for the last little while. He knows Jay’s gonna see the late punch, but it’s either that or leave the cafe uncleaned and the machines filled. He’d rather lie and say he fell asleep in the break room than try and explain a night he himself can hardly put into words.

The next afternoon when he’s leaning against the coffee counter, a patron instead of a worker, it’s the first time he doesn’t tell Barry or Caitlin about an encounter with Harry. Cisco can tell he’s probably been talking about the older man more than he thought he had been when Caitlin hands him his hot tea with a question on her lips.

“Did _Harry_ not show last night?” There’s a quirk to her lips that reminds Cisco of her rare moments of mischief and somehow his brain connects that to the smile on Harry’s own mouth and it makes him jerk the tea to his chest on reflex.

“He did,” Cisco says, eyes sliding to the ground as he takes a hasty gulp of his drink, hoping his friend will take it as his desire to not have whatever conversation she wants to be having. It’s clearly no dice though as Caitlin leans on to the counter, her signature “tell me more” move as she bats her eyelashes at him. Cisco can’t even say he’s holding up a line when it’s nearly 3 pm and the cafe is dead. He rolls his eyes, all dramatic and long-suffering. “Look, he came in we talked, he left, nothing to report home about!” Caitlin doesn’t look convinced but she stands up. The way her eyes scan over his face tells Cisco he hasn’t heard the last of her meddling.

It doesn’t much matter though, he has a class in twenty and can’t stand around for her to dig into a very personal night he’s not sure about.

Well, it was probably a fluke anyway. At least that’s what Cisco’s thinking when it happens again… and again… and _again_.

He thinks it until it’s been a reoccurring fluke for close to three weeks. Every three nights when Harry comes in for his coffee, looking less stressed the more he has Cisco at his elbow. They pour over new schematics and new equations, hurtling towards a solution together twice as fast as Harry was managing alone. When the older man stops in for his afternoon caffeine he’s been taking to sharing an almost secret smile with Cisco when the barista passes over his drink. It’s prompted too many questions from Barry and Caitlin. Cisco holds those night close to his chest though and only gives the barest of half-truths to his friends. He wants to keep those hazy, soft, amazing hours with Harry to himself.

It’s just the two of them a few days later and finals are drawing closer but the night has blessed the coffee shop, or at least Cisco, with no other students or patrons aside from Harry himself. It probably doesn’t hurt that Cisco’s also locked the front door thirty minutes before official close and turned the sign around. It’s not hurting anyone after all.

They’ve been pouring over the latest renderings of the engine matrix for the last hour. Harry’s more satisfied with the current design than any other that has come before. Cisco can tell because it’s rendered in a 3D model instead of the flat blueprint sketches. It’s at the very least, twenty percent Cisco’s thought up sleekness and reworkings. The design is solid. Cisco is dead sure of that. Now it’s only the math that’s giving them all the grief. He kind of wishes Barry were here, another genius set of eyes, way too good at finding those little missing puzzle pieces that lead to crystal clear answers. Then Cisco swipes the idea away completely when Harry nudges his elbow into his ribs, gently and more of a brush considering how they’re bent together over the table. Cisco couldn’t share these moments with anyone. He wouldn’t want to.

“How does this look?” And Harry is dragging Cisco’s attention to a new scribble next to the old base equation for power conversion that wasn’t working before with the core of copper they’d both decided would conduct best in the end. Cisco lets his eyes slip over the numbers and letters, brows furrowing together. They’re close. He can tell that they’re close, but even with Harry’s added correction, it’s not right. Not quite.

Without looking he takes the pencil that’s already held out toward him from Harry’s hand. When their fingers brush Cisco is just used to it enough that his heart stops trying to jump from his chest.

“This isn’t gonna work with the amount of storage we’re trying to get out of this bad boy,” and Cisco doesn’t even remember which late night “you’re” became “we’re” but Harry hasn’t corrected him once since he’d started using it. Cisco crosses out the tail end of Harry’s notation for speed.

Speed.

_Speed._

That’s it! That’s it right there! Cisco feels it click into place like the most satisfying back crack he’s ever experienced but more. He knows he’s started shaking in excitement.

“I got it.” His face is splitting with the grin he’s suddenly wearing and he can feel Harry freeze next to him. Cisco turns to look at him, expression manic and impossible to control. “Harry I _got it,”_ and then he’s turning back to the equations and drawing out a new baseline to come back to. He replaces space with speed and starts drawing lines to the design. They’ll need to build a rotator into the main storage cell but it ’ll work.

Cisco can hear that Harry’s stopped breathing beside him as he’s gotten to writing, but he doesn’t think it’s bad, especially not when Harry drops an open palm across his shoulder and is pulling him in, making a scratch across the page he was filling with notes. In lue of being able to write them, dragged into Harry’s chest and squeezed, Cisco starts speaking.

“We were thinking that storage was the issue but it’s not! If we can control the speed in which the energy is brought in and dispersed than -”

“We can control the amount that builds up making the cell smaller and less likely to overload.” Cisco nods against Harry’s chest and his grin is still too wide for his mouth. Then he freezes, one hand clenching his and Harry’s shared pencil, the other on top of the arm Harry isn’t holding him with. As excited as he is at the breakthrough he can’t help but be more caught up in the spiced scent of Harry’s aftershave, something he’s only gotten hints at before, now exploding across his senses. Then there’s the warmth of Harry’s chest, more pronounced than ever before as Cisco is literally squished against it.

And just as soon as began it's over, Harry drawing away. Slow as it is, the loss of that warmth is as close to an ache Cisco’s ever felt before. But he knows that he can’t just go around, clinging to Harrison Wells’ shoulders like he is. He removes his hands and chances a look at the older man’s face. His smile is just as wide as Cisco is sure his had been only moments before and it’s enough to make the barista’s breath catch. His eyes lock with Harry’s and Cisco can feel his face making a weird expression, too soft and too besotted for his liking. Like he’s said before, he's never exactly been subtle.

Cisco's sure Harry’s going to say something now that the elation has had it’s time to settle into their bones and the encroaching silence is pushing in again, once comfortable, now charged. Cisco is transfixed by Harry’s stare. He opens his mouth a fraction, maybe to say something or maybe to just try and catch his breath. Then Harry’s eyes follow the movement down to Cisco’s mouth and all at once Cisco feels like a live wire, buzzing right down to his toes. He thinks he’s going to actually pass out when Harry’s tongue swipes out to wet his lips like they’re just as dry as Cisco’s suddenly are.

Time is crawling to a standstill for Cisco and he’s half-convinced he’s fallen asleep at the coffee table like Harry had a few weeks prior and this is a very elaborate, very real dream, especially when it looks like Harry is actually leaning towards him, cutting the already minimal space by a third. He doesn’t quite recall what Caitlin told him were the early signs of a heart attack but Cisco’s convinced he’s having one.

Then Harry’s phone goes off, shrill and loud.

The spell is broken and Harry jerks away from him, scrambling for the device and frowning down at the caller-id. Cisco busies himself by learning how to breathe again and starts getting Harry’s blueprints put back together. They’ve solved the problem, he’ll want to leave and Cisco needs to be able to go home on time tonight, Jay’s been giving him some looks recently.

“Jesse? What’s wrong?” Cisco looks back to the older man and feels a clench behind his ribs. He’s never heard Harry use that tone before, then he’s sighing and the way his face had pinched in worry smooths out. “Right, right, I’ll be home soon Quick.” Cisco averts his gaze before Harry can catch him watching. He’s got all the papers put back into Harry’s folder by the time the scientist has his phone back in his pocket.

There’s a moment where neither of them is quite sure what to do, orbiting around one another as cars drive past the cafe. Cisco clears his throat and averts his eyes back to the folder on the table. He’s filled with accomplishment again as he looks at it, knowing that he’s part of the reason there’s a solution to the hardest question he’s seen. It makes him smile just a bit as he picks it up and holds it out for Harry to take.

Harry accepts the documents with one his rare soft looks and huffs out a breath that sounds more relieved than Cisco’s ever heard one of his sighs sound.

“I don’t…” he laughs a little, “I don’t actually know how to thank you for this Ramon,” Harry shakes the papers a little for emphasis. Cisco shakes his head a bit.

“Don’t worry about it Harry, it’s not every day a lowly college student like myself gets to help the Great Harrison Wells with a feat of engineering the world has never seen before,” he adds a wink for effect and heads to his counter to start with clean up. Harry is used to seeing himself out and Cisco still isn’t over what he is pretty sure was an almost kiss. Behind him thinks he hears Harry chuckle under his breath.

“I’ll see you later Ramon,” Cisco doesn’t look to see Harry unlatch the lock and leave as he bids him a goodnight, stomach still tied up in knots.

...

Three days later the lunch rush comes and go and Harry doesn’t show.


End file.
